The Nefarious Five: Doomsday Race
by maximuscato
Summary: Sometimes demigods go bad: and Evan Lex is as bad as they come. He's assembled a team of rogue demigods to after some of the most powerful artifacts of the ancient world. If they get all five, it could mean doomsday. Percy and Jason are forced to assemble a team and try to beat him to it. It's a race against the clock as the two groups go head to head.
1. Chapter 1

Going back to the scene of the crime was something only an idiot would do. Evan Lex was a lot of things – handsome, witty, humble to a fault – but _stupid_ was not one them. Therefore, he had reasoned, going back the crime scene would be exactly the last thing people would expect. It was a master stroke. It would catch the Twelfth Legion completely off guard.

So when Evan had turned up and found a bunch of legionaries waiting for him, armed to the teeth and rearing to take him in, he'd been more offended than anything else. Hurt. He'd hoped Reyna had thought better of him.

The fact that he'd failed to pull off the heist the first time wasn't his fault. Not really. The weapons depot had been laid out exactly like in his schematics. The guards were in the same place and everything. He could almost see the dollar signs as he laid his eyes on the rows of gleaming Imperial Gold weaponry. It had all been going excellently, until his phone had gone off. Loudly. Yes, demigod heroes weren't meant to use cell phones. There were no official guidelines on using Taylor Swift songs as ringtones, but it was probably frowned upon. But while Evan was a demigod, he was no hero.

Evan ran across the rooftop, a heavy rucksack banging at his side. He glanced up to see two giant eagles swooping overheard, Roman legionaries clutched in their talons. Evan summoned the air and catapulted himself over to the next apartment building, hit the ground hard and kept running.

Two demi-gods came up behind him, their _gladius'_ drawn. One was a stocky guy with red stained lips that Evan recognised as Dakota from the Fifth cohort. The other was a girl he didn't know. Her blonde hair stuck out from beneath her helmet in spiky tufts and she eyed Evan nervously, looking to Dakota for reassurance. Evan winked at her. His reputation proceeded him. Excellent.

Evan flashed Dakota a wide grin.

"What are the chances" he asked in mock incredulity, "that we both decided to do our Christmas shopping on the same day? I hope you weren't thinking of getting the shield with the lightning bolt trim Dakota; I really had my eye on it."

Dakota frowned.

"It's July."

"I like to do my Christmas shopping early. Avoid the queues."

"Not sure if it counts as shopping if you don't pay for anything."

Evan sighed.

"We're really getting hung up on the specifics today, aren't we?"

"Evan Lex" said the girl in a voice that quivered with nerves. "We are arresting you in the name of the Twelfth Legion. You are wanted for multiple counts of theft, grand larceny and fraud."

Evan waited for more, but none was forthcoming.

"Is that it?" he asked, visibly disappointed. "I swear I've done more. What about the time I hacked into Frank Zhang's Facebook and posted 'I SUCK?'"

Dakota made an irritated gesture with his sword.

"We've got back up on the way. You're surrounded. Surrender yourself into my custody, and I'll put a good word in for you at your trial. Maybe they'll give you a bunk in your cell rather than make you sleep on the floor for the next fifty years."

Evan nodded.

"Tempting. But I think I'll have to give it a miss."

Dakota smiled.

"I was kind of hoping you'd say that."

Dakota and the girl split into a flanking formation, coming at Evan from both sides. Evan dropped his rucksack, and drew a twin set of long knives from his boots. He twirled them nonchalantly in his hands.

Dakota came at him high, cutting at his neck. Evan ducked and rammed his shoulder into Dakota's chest, winding him. He turned just in time to deflect the girl's incoming swing with his knife, which she followed up with a stab at this lower body that forced Evan to skip back quickly. She was good. Not good enough to challenge him, mind, but she wasn't bad.

Evan feinted to the left and, when she followed him, he moved in fast, getting past her guard and backhanding her sharply across the face. She fell back with a cry and Evan kicked the sword out of her hand.

Dakota tried to rush him, but he side-stepped and stuck out his foot, tripping the bulky centurion and sending him sprawling.

"Sorry about this" Evan called, as he picked up his rucksack and swung it over his shoulder. "It's nothing personal. I hope Reyna doesn't put you on latrine duty."

Dakota swore at him loudly, struggling to get up.

Evan tutted.

"Now, now Dakota. There's no need to be rude."

Evan could hear the cries of more eagles descending and the shouts of legionaries. It was time to go. He waved cheerily in goodbye and walked to the edge of the rooftop. Evan took one final glance around him, then slowly tipped off the edge and allowed himself to fall.


	2. Chapter 2

The wind caught Evan half way down, forming a protective cushion that gently lowered him to street level, despotising him on the sidewalk next to where he'd parked his motorbike. Being a son of Jupiter had its perks.

Evan eyed his bike appreciatively. Jet black and sleek, it was the only way to get around. Sure beat travelling by eagle. He swung his leg over and throttled the engine, which responded with a throaty growl. Evan kicked off and was soon making his way through down-town San Diego, weaving in and out of traffic.

Eventually he arrived at a run-down warehouse. Glancing warily up and down the narrow alley, Evan knocked four times in quick succession on a heavy panelled door. It slid open to admit him.

Inside was dimly lit and grimy. Evan could make out rows upon rows of all manner of goods; imperial gold and celestial bronze weapons, chariots, jewellery, and what looked to be a diamond encrusted fidget spinner.

A figure emerged from between the mounted piles and leered at Evan. The man was short, barely hitting five foot, but sported an impressive beard that grew unkempt and wild from his jutting chin.

"Morning Rufus" Evan called cheerily. "I've got some goodies for you."

Rufus grunted, and motioned for the items to inspect. Evan dumped the rucksack on a table and the items spilled out, clanging together noisily.

Rufus took out what looked like a monocle, through which he began to examine the weapons Evan had brought, all the while grunting and muttering to himself.

"I'll give you two hundred _denarii_ for the lot" he said finally, looking up from his work.

"Is that supposed to be some kind of a joke?" Evan asked. "Do you see my face, Rufus? I'm not laughing."

"Best I can do" Rufus grumbled, hawking a gob of spit noisily. Evan grimaced in distaste. "The Legion has really been cracking down lately. It's hard to shift any product."

"I want three hundred" Evan insisted.

"You'll take what you get" Rufus laughed, tossing him a bag of coins. "It's a buyer's market."

Evan scowled but pocketed the coins. He was about to leave when Rufus called him back.

"There's somebody here for you" Rufus told him.

"Really? Who?" Evan asked.

Rufus shrugged.

"I dunno. Real shifty bloke, dressed all in black. Gave me the creeps. Asked for you by name."

Evan raised an eyebrow.

"Well, now I really am interested. What does he want?"

"How should I know? You can ask him yourself – he insisted on waiting. He's in the back."

Evan made his way through the crowded warehouse to the secluded backroom, where the man waited.

Rufus had been right. The guy was creepy. He was tall and thin, with skin so pale it was almost translucent. He was dressed head to toe in black, and his eyes were dark pools that held no expression.

"Mr Lex, I presume" the man said, extending a hand.

"Actually, it's Doctor Lex. Sir Doctor Lex" said Evan, reluctantly shaking the man's proffered hand which was limp and cold to the touch.

"Really?" he asked.

"No" said Evan, regarding the man. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Mr Smith."

"Right" said Evan, drawing out the word to indicate his disbelief. "So, _Mr Smith_ , do you want to start with telling me how you know my name? And how you knew where to find me, come to think of it. There are a lot of people who would love to have that information."

Mr Smith laughed. It wasn't a nice laugh. It was the kind that sounded like grating metal and sent shivers down your spine.

"Oh, those whom I represent know a lot of things, Mr Lex. And they know all about you."

"I'm flattered. And slightly creeped out."

"They have a proposition for you."

"Yeah, I guessed so" said Evan disinterestedly. "I'm not interested."

"You haven't even heard what it is yet."

"Don't need to" Evan told him airily. "I don't work for anyone. I'm my own boss. I certainly don't take orders from creeps in Halloween costumes."

Mr Smith frowned.

"This isn't a Halloween costume."

"Whatever. You know where the door is; don't let it hit you on the way out."

Mr Smith smiled thinly.

"Mr Lex, the people who sent me are not to be taken lightly. Nor is the reward they're offering for your services."

"I do pretty well for myself, thanks."

"Really?" Mr Smith replied, his voice mocking. "You are content with surviving off the crumbs you manage to snatch from the Legion? You never felt like you could achieve… more?"

Evan shifted slightly.

"Maybe. What's it to you?"

Mr Smith spread his hands in a supplicating gesture.

"I can offer you wealth, Mr Lex. Riches beyond your wildest dreams."

"Don't bet on it. My dreams can get pretty wild."

Mr Smith simply smiled that cold smile and produced a business card from his jacket pocket. The card was jet black, to match the rest of his get-up, and on it, printed in neat white lettering, was a number that made Evan's head spin.

"Your client has this amount of money?" Evan asked incredulously. "This amount of money even _exists_?"

"You will be paid 20 per cent, up front, once you accept the job. The balance will be paid in instalments upon proof of success."

Evan coughed surreptitiously.

"Why don't you sit down?" he asked the man, gesturing to a chair. "Did I say how much I loved the whole dark vibe you've got going on there? Very noir."

"I take it then you're interested?"

"Just ignore everything I said before. It's early; I get cranky."

Mr Smith settled in a chair.

"There are four artefacts that have survived intact from ancient times" he began. "Objects of extreme power. My client is interested in acquiring them."

"Then why not just buy them?" Evan asked. "Clearly they've got the money."

Mr Smith shook his head.

"The items are not for sale."

"I see. So, you want me to steal them."

"If that's how you want to describe it."

"Why?"

Mr Smith regarded him for a moment.

"The objects are imbued with magical properties, Mr Lex" he said finally. "That make them formidable, even on their own. When combined however… well, let's just say my clients are very interested in having all these objects in one place. It's never been done before."

"And what are these objects?" Evan asked.

"The Golden Apple of Paris, the Bow of the Amazons, the Spear of Achilles, and the Girdle of Aphrodite."

Evan whistled.

"Quite the list."

"Indeed. These artefacts are heavily guarded by their current owners. It won't be an easy task to retrieve them."

"That's the understatement of the century" Evan muttered. "It'll be nigh on impossible."

"Well, now you see why I'm approaching you" Mr Smith said coolly. "Not just anybody could steal these items; only demigods would stand a chance. And most…"

"Most haven't turned to the dark side" I finished for him. "Yeah, I know. _Heroes._ " He said the word with disdain. "Constantly saving the world from the god's screw ups. And what thanks do they get for it? Diddly squat."

"You will need a team if you hope to succeed."

Evan waved a hand.

"Don't you worry about that – I can get a team. You just make sure my money's paid on time."

"That won't be a problem, Mr Lex. Uphold your end of the bargain, and you'll be an extremely wealthy man."

"I'm planning on it."


	3. Chapter 3

The air was thick with smoke and the sound of dealers calling out to the players to place their bets. There were only two players left at the centre poker table, who were eying each other warily over the tops of their cards. One was a tetchy looking faun with bloodshot eyes and a straggly beard, who was tapping a fast drumbeat into the table with his fingers. The other was a kid of about eighteen, who kept his face hidden under the brim of a snakeskin cowboy hat. The two were locked in a battle of wills.

"You're bluffing" the faun growled, narrowing his eyes to glare at the player. "There's no way you've got the cards."

In response, his opponent tipped back the hat and grinned, revealing two rows of shiny white teeth.

"Well then, why don't you stop your yammering and put down some money?" the boy asked in a lazy Texan drawl. His face was tanned and weather-beaten, which spoke of years spent outside under the hot sun. His dark brown eyes glittered with cruel amusement.

The faun paused and looked back to his friends for reassurance. They clapped him loudly on the back, shouting encouragement. The faun squared his shoulders.

"I call" he announced, sliding in a stack of chips. The dealer acknowledged his bet, while the assembled crowd made appreciative noises, turning to his opponent to see what he would do next.

The boy cocked his head to the side and regarded the faun silently. He glanced down at his cards, and then at the cards that formed the flop that were splayed out on the table.

"You know what my momma used to always say?" he asked the faun, his tone reflective. "She would say, 'Richard! Once you're in for a penny, boy, you're in for a pound.'"

The faun rolled his eyes.

"Spare us your southern charm _Rick_ " he said acidly. "We all know you haven't got any."

"Manners cost nothing" Rick told the faun seriously. "But tonight, when I kick your hairy ass and send you off crying back home to the rest of the billy goats gruff – that'll cost you everything you have. I'm all in."

Rick pushed his entire stack of chips into the centre, tipping them over and making them spill over the table.

The faun, incensed by Rick's insult, was seeing red. He let off a sharp bleat and followed Rick's lead, pushing his entire stack into the centre. The crowd emitted an audible gasp.

The dealer swallowed nervously. He had seen enough poker games turn ugly to be able to tell this was a train wreck waiting to happen.

"Players reveal your cards" he called.

The faun flipped his cards and grinned at Rick.

"Full house!" the dealer announced, and the crowd broke into applause.

"This was honestly too easy" the faun told Rick, his tone condescending. "I was hoping for a harder match."

Rick raised a finger.

"Wait a minute, goat-man" he said quietly, before turning his cards over for everyone to see.

There was a deafening silence.

"Royal flush" the dealer said, his voice weak. "We have a winner."

Rick got up slowly and winked at the faun.

"Hey, tough luck pal" he said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Maybe stick to the panpipes in future."

The faun's eyes were bulging, and he had a manic look in his eyes.

"That's impossible" he murmured, almost to himself.

Rick paused.

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that" he said, cupping a hand to his ear. "Wanna try again?"

"Your royal flush is impossible" repeated the faun, loud enough for everyone to hear. "The Ace of Spades was already out."

Rick laughed.

"You're crazy."

The dealer narrowed his eyes at Rick.

"Turn out your sleeves."

Rick's smile faltered slightly.

"C'mon people" he implored, glancing around him. "The goat-man is just sour because he lost. I don't have to prove anything."

"Then just turn out your sleeves" the dealer insisted.

Rick hesitated, then sighed.

"Fine. If it'll make you happy…"

He raised his arms and made a flicking motion. Cards exploded out of his shirt sleeves, engulfing the dealer, the faun, and the crowd. Dice, chips, and roulette balls flew everywhere, creating utter chaos. By the time everything had calmed down, nobody could find hide nor hair of the boy in the snakeskin hat.

Outside the gambling den, Rick patted himself on the back. That had been a close one. He sauntered down the alley way, whistling tunelessly. Suddenly, he stopped. A figure sat on an upturned crate, waiting for him.

"Well I'll be damned" Rick said, rubbing his eyes as if confronted by an illusion. "If it isn't Evan Lex, in the flesh."

"Howdy" Evan commented, standing up to greet him. "It's been a while."

Rick took Evan in. The guy seemed relatively unchanged. Eighteen, same as Rick, with sandy blond hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to stare right through you.

"Sure has" Rick agreed. "Last I remember, you were serving a hefty sentence in New Rome's jail cells."

"Yeah, that didn't work out" Evan told him drily. "The food was terrible."

"So, what are you doing here?" Rick asked.

"I'm building a team."

Rick looked at him askance.

"What, like the Avengers?"

"Kind of. Except I'm far better looking than Captain America. And I don't want to destroy infinity stones; I want to sell them and get filthy rich."

"How rich are we talking here?"

Evan told him. Rick inhaled sharply.

"Who on earth has that kind of money?" he asked, astounded.

Evan shrugged.

"Don't know, don't care. Just as long as we can cash their checks, I'm happy. You haven't grown a conscience on me, have you Rick?"

Rick chuckled.

"Not a chance. What are we stealing?"

"I prefer thinking about it as _liberating._ We're freeing these items from obscurity."

"Right, sure, you're a real saint" Rick smiled. "Bona fide Mother Theresa. What are these items?"

"Golden Apple of Paris, Bow of the Amazons, Spear of Achilles, and Aphrodite's Girdle."

"Jeez, they don't want much, do they?"

"For this kind of money, I steal them the moon if they wanted it."

"Fair enough."

"You're one of the best thieves in the business Rick – after me, obviously. And it's always a good idea to have a kid of Tyche around. You can be our own lucky charm."

Rick rolled his eyes.

"Not sure I can cope with working in a team with you again" he said, teasingly. "You remember New York in '16?"

"Hey, that wasn't my fault" Evan objected. "If Percy Jackson hadn't turned up, we would have been home and dry."

"Well – let's just hope he doesn't show up again."


End file.
